


Intermission

by demonessryu



Category: Bohemian Rhapsody (Movie 2018), Queen (Band)
Genre: Ballet, Blow Jobs, Car Sex, Developing Relationship, Dirty Talk, First Time Topping, M/M, Public Hand Jobs, Sexual Tension, Strangers to Lovers, Topping from the Bottom
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-24
Updated: 2019-12-24
Packaged: 2021-02-25 21:02:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,984
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21911902
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/demonessryu/pseuds/demonessryu
Summary: Roger hated ballet, but a chance encounter with a charming if shy stranger might make him like it a bit more.
Relationships: Brian May/Roger Taylor
Comments: 12
Kudos: 82
Collections: Maylor Week





	Intermission

**Author's Note:**

> The prompts for this day are the most difficult. I don’t celebrate Christmas and I’m not familiar enough with the other prompts to write anything in depth about them. The most familiar to me is Tchaikovsky’s Nutcracker, which has accompanied me on many overtimes, but I don’t know anything about classical music other than that I enjoy it from time to time. Anyway, yes, ballet, but it’s only in the background. Don’t expect details, though I try to make it up with smut! Kinda based on Roger’s story of how he sometimes accompanied Freddie to ballet despite hating it and Brian’s story of how he and Roger used to go on ~~dates~~ concerts together.
> 
> Prompt: Ballet

Roger wondered, not for the first time, why he was here. He didn’t like ballet – didn’t like how it sounded, didn’t like how slow it was, didn’t like how it looked. Most of all, he _hated_ how it drew the most pretentious group of old people in the nation had. Everywhere he looked, he saw people who would turn up their noses at the sight of him, his clothes, his hair, his car, his choices. But, Freddie loved it and Roger really loved his best friend and partner-in-crime, so here he was, suffering in the name of friendship.

Roger sighed as quietly as he could. He was getting fidgety, a familiar effect of being forced to be still and quiet for what seemed like forever. His craving for nicotine had started to gnaw on him, too. Yet, when he looked to the stage, the dancers were still leaping and prancing about and he could practically feel Freddie vibrating with excitement at the sight of (who Roger assumed to be) the prince. Freddie fancied himself a ballet dancer, which Roger thought was dubious but amusing. Roger could think of many other things he’d prefer to do on the weekend, but just as Freddie sometimes went along when Roger wanted to see obscure musical acts, Roger occasionally caved in and went with him to classical music concerts and ballet performances. He would later complain about it, but Freddie knew and expected this and still asked him to go with him anyway, so Roger didn’t think there was any need to withhold his rants.

And Roger would rant very long and very loudly later on their way back to their flat. God, it was _so_ dull. The fairytale it was based on wouldn’t take a quarter of an hour to read, but this whole performance was to last almost two hours. How was there so much to dance about? Roger cursed the first fool who thought twirling and leaping on tiptoes on stage was a great thing to be enjoyed for hours on end. However, the internal cursing would yield nothing as the bastard was probably already dead centuries ago and it wouldn’t magically cut the performance short. At least there would be a brief respite of intermission, which couldn’t come soon enough. Roger casted his gaze about the large room to plan the fastest escape route for his much-deserved cigarette break (Freddie usually chose mingling with fellow ballet enthusiasts over smoking). He looked past receding hairlines and overdone hairdos to the exit, but his eyes were suddenly drawn to a mass of curly hair that absolutely didn’t belong there. It was the trend of the time and therefore looked out of place among those whose fashion sense was based on what was cool decades ago. Roger narrowed his eyes, trying to see the person seated several rows away from him to no avail. He wished he had brought his glasses with him, but he wasn’t keen on watching the performance anyway, so he had left them behind. Now, he wished he had brought them if only to see who the person was. It must be someone around his age. He couldn’t imagine anyone belonging to the average age group of this audience having the sort of fashion sense favored by glittering rockers of the day. It must be someone much younger than them, probably (hopefully) someone Roger’s age. The juxtaposition between the trendy hairstyle and old-fashioned entertainment intrigued Roger, but, much to his disappointment, he had no means to learn further about the person.

At long last, the intermission came. Roger sighed in relief and joined the murmuring crowd out of the hall. Freddie was chattering excitedly beside him and was distracted from being upset by the lack of reaction when he found friends he could review the performance with. Roger quickly went to the restroom before heading outside for a much-needed cigarette break. He ignored the disapproving looks sent his way by some older people as he dug into the inner pocket of his cheap suit jacket for his cigarette pack. It was almost empty, but it should last the too-short intermission. For a moment, Roger was tempted to go out to buy a new pack of cigarette and not return, but he knew Freddie wouldn’t be pleased to have him suddenly gone and Freddie’s bad mood, although rare, could easily rival his own.

When Roger came near the man, he almost completely missed him. It was the luxurious hair that first caught his attention, followed by the quite impressive height. Roger slowed down, staring. As he had thought, it was someone around his age, although dressed like he was years older. His features were quite distinctive – not conservatively beautiful perhaps, but far from ugly. Something about him seemed kind and inviting, but at the same time he seemed very reserved, although maybe that was because he was currently trying to fold into two and sink into the wall. Roger regarded him in a mixture of curiosity and amusement. Like Roger, he clearly didn’t belong here and was miserable for it, although Roger showed his displeasure in sighs and eye rolls and he in withdrawing to a quiet corner. It seemed like Roger would make a new friend.

Or, maybe more than friend, as the guy suddenly lifted his eyes, found Roger’s gaze, and immediately looked away with a faint air of shyness. Roger raised an eyebrow and ran his eyes over the guy again. He wasn’t bad looking at all. Maybe not exactly Roger’s type, but Roger’s type had always been rather whimsical anyway, especially when it came to appearances. Deciding that he couldn’t lose anything by testing the waters – at the very least he’d be able to keep himself occupied until he must resume the torture of ballet – Roger approached the man. He leaned against the wall beside him, waiting until the man looked at him before lifting his cigarette pack in offer.

“You look like you’re in need of a smoke,” he commented.

The man blinked at him slowly, almost owlishly, then shook his head. “Thanks, but I don’t smoke.”

Roger shrugged. “Fresh air, then. There’s a balcony right there. I’m going for a smoke.”

“I don’t think fresh air and smoking mix,” the man retorted smartly but quietly. Yet, when Roger walked away, he followed.

The balcony was blessedly quiet when Roger got there with the man in tow. The first long overdue inhalation of cigarette smoke gave Roger’s nerves some comfort. He tilted his head, savoring the moment while he could. Beside him, the stranger watched him not-so-discreetly from the corner of his eyes. Roger stayed silent, wondering what he would do. However, after a while, it was clear that he wasn’t even going to start a conversation, probably out of shyness, if the way he abruptly looked away whenever Roger turned his head a little to his direction was any indication. Strange fellow, he thought. He freely followed a complete stranger to this balcony but now wouldn’t even say a word because he was too timid. Luckily for him, Roger knew how to strike a conversation with most people, barring those who started their acquaintance with poor impression, and the impression made by this man was leaning toward intriguing rather than irritating.

“What do you think about the show?” he asked. When the stranger hummed and hawed nervously, he continued, “I think it’s very boring.”

There was a startled silence, followed by a relieved laugh. “Yeah, yeah. It is a little boring.”

“It’s nice, but not for me at all. Bit too slow and not loud enough, I think,” Roger said with a grin, pleased to see that his initial assessment of the stranger’s opinion was correct. He always did like being right. When the man agreed again, this time with more certainty, he asked, “why are you here, then?”

“My parents want to see it,” he replied with an embarrassed little shrug. “And they insist that I should get out for reasons other than work.”

Roger raised an eyebrow. “It’s Saturday night.”

The man bowed his head, fidgeting. “Yes. Well.” Then, he seemed to regain his composure, or maybe even confidence, and pulled himself up to his full height. Roger watched him in amusement. He could be intimidating if he weren’t so damned nice and shy and Roger weren’t the sort of person who regularly got in trouble. As it was, he only looked more ravishing than before. “Why are _you_ here?” he asked back.

“My friend asked me to accompany him. He enjoys this thing more than I do.” Roger glanced back inside. He thought he saw Freddie in the crowd, but there were too many people Roger didn’t care for and a nice man he’d like to know beside him, so he immediately turned his attention away from the crowd.

“You’re a good friend,” the man complimented.

“And you’re an obedient son,” Roger retorted. “He accompanies me to concerts he doesn’t care for – local bands, you know – so I want to return the favor.”

“Oh? Which local bands? I go to local concerts sometimes.”

Roger had gone to watch many local bands and artists. Some were starting to make a name for themselves, while others he believed had great potentials, and these two categories didn’t always intersect to him. Freddie told him he set his standard too exacting and too high, but Roger argued that he merely knew what he liked best – something that didn’t bore him to death, like ballet. He mentioned the latest performance he went to. “I watched them this week. I think they’re pretty fab.”

“Oh!” The man’s eyes sparkled in excitement as he smiled widely. “I’ve seen a few of their performances! I think they’re quite amazing, really!”

“Aren’t they?” Roger enthused, happy to find someone who shared his opinion.

They spent the rest of the intermission sharing their unexpected mutual passion for rock music. Their tastes aligned, although there were signs of disagreements whenever they got down to the details. Roger discovered that the man was a math teacher who played his (custom-made!) guitar as a hobby. When Roger commented that he wouldn’t look too out of place on a stage, considering his hair, he very charmingly became flustered. It seemed good in theory, he said, but he was meant for science. Roger scoffed at that, arguing that what really mattered was what they wanted to be and made themselves into, rather than what someone else thought they ought to be. He seemed happy to hear that, smiling hopefully like he had waited all his life to hear it. Roger could sympathize, frankly, but before he could give further encouragement, an announcement came that the performance would resume. The two men shared a look and sighed.

“I don’t know your name,” the tall man pointed our hesitantly as Roger crushed his cigarette butt under his shoe.

“Ah, right.” Roger hadn’t forgotten this fact at all, actually, but he wanted the other man to initiate further acquaintance. Smiling, he offered his hand. “Roger.”

“Brian.”

Long fingers closed over Roger’s hand. Brian’s grip was strong, but not crushing, his fingers slightly dry but gentle where they brushed Roger’s skin. When Brian pulled his hand away, Roger tightened his grip just enough to slow him down and lightly stroked the back of his hand with his thumb in a gesture that could almost pass as innocent. “Nice to meet you, Brian.”

Brian blinked at him and looked away, pulling his hand back and putting it in his pocket. Under the light from the building, Roger could see that a faint dusting of pink was coloring his cheeks. He could proposition Brian right here, make plan to meet and have some fun, but for some unknown reasons he refrained. Something (Brian’s rather obvious attraction) told him this wouldn’t be their last meeting and things would only get more exciting if he were to take his time. With a smirk, Roger walked past Brian and into the throng of people getting back into the hall. He couldn’t wait to meet Brian again.

* * *

Going to ballet performances got a lot nicer after that. It was still boring and Roger highly doubted he would ever grow any kind of love for it. But, at least now he had someone to hate it with. Freddie and Brian’s parents miraculously shared the same social schedule, going and planning to go to the same performances, unknowingly bringing Roger and Brian together over and over. Brian faced his musical sentence mostly with resignation, but Roger’s unfiltered complaints encouraged him to voice some of his own discontent. He was still quiet about his less pleasant thoughts, probably a result of upbringing by the sort of people who would consider ballet a form of weekly entertainment. Roger would’ve liked Brian’s parents less, if Brian hadn’t talked about them with affection. They were, at least according to him, the most supportive and caring parents one could have. In fact, when he went out less after his recent breakup, they had taken it upon their own hands to make him leave his humble flat on the weekend to give him a semblance of a social life, even if to see something he wasn’t that interested in.

“Maybe they’re expecting you to get fed up and run off to a pub instead,” Roger said when Brian told him this.

“I suspect so, actually,” Brian sighed.

“Then, why don’t you do that?”

Brian shrugged and muttered something about not minding spending time with his parents. But, in the dim light at the balcony, Roger could see him glancing at him hopefully.

However, Roger took his time. He could pull Brian to an abandoned nook somewhere and have a quick way with him if he wanted to. But, quite surprisingly, he didn’t really want to. Brian turned out to be a good friend. They shared many similar interests and opinions, even political ones. Roger’s liking of him also grew quite significantly when he didn’t sneer at all when Roger admitted to owning a clothing stall to fund his dream for fame. Instead, he complimented Roger’s sense of fashion, saying that he understood now why he looked like he belonged on stage rather than watching a stage. Roger was very pleased to hear that, although later on the drive home, he indicated nothing about this to Freddie. Instead he complained on and on and on, determined to throw Freddie off his scents. Brian was a timid man and the last thing Roger wanted was Freddie scaring him off his with overenthusiastic interrogation.

Still, Roger thought that they ought to move their relationship to some direction. So, a month after their meeting, he directed Brian to a deserted balcony and cupped his cock through his perfectly-pressed trousers. And, well, Roger was impressed to say the least.

Brian’s eyes widened as Roger stroked him through the fabric, running his hand over impressive length and even down to where his balls were. He seemed shocked, but didn’t draw away. Instead, he gripped the railing in front of him tightly while breathing loudly. Taking this as an invitation, Roger gripped him firmly and pumped him as best as he could until the flaccid cock hardened under his touch and strained against the confines of underwear and trousers. Randomly, he gave the cock in his hand a gentle squeeze. Beside him, Brian made a quiet sound, a desperate moan as his hips jerked forward once before he had them under control again. If he minded, here he could back off and go away, but instead he whimpered quietly when Roger’s hand stopped moving and sighed in relief when he stroked him again from base to tip. Roger shifted a little to give space for his own throbbing cock, but only glanced at Brian, busy making sure that no one inside the building paid them any attention. He did look, however, when he deftly undid Brian’s trousers with just one hand and pulled out his sizable cock. It was temptingly long with nice girth to it, standing up proudly and curving toward his stomach, a bead of wetness on its tip begging Roger to lick it off.

Roger took a slow deep drag of his cigarette to keep from going down to his knees and take Brian into his mouth. Another time, he promised himself, as he pumped Brian at a steady pace that had Brian breathing harshly and clutching the railing tighter. The soft skin moved ever so slightly under his touch and the thick cock twitched and jumped when he twisted his hand just so. When his arm began to ache, Roger focused his attention on the exposed head, running his thumb over and over again over the wet pink gland until Brian whimpered sweetly, his eyes tightly shut. Roger wanted to kiss him then, make him pant and moan into his mouth as he was brought to orgasm, but he resisted. Instead, he stroked Brian’s cock again and this time, Brian rocked into his grip. The movements were subtle, hesitant, but unmistakably indicated his approaching release. The tip was even wetter now as he dripped onto the floor. Brian bowed his head and panted, thrusting desperately into the callused grip of Roger’s stroking hand.

Finally, his impatience got the better of him. Roger crushed his cigarette under his shoe and leaned close to Brian, all without slowing down. “You like that? Or are you imagining something else?”

“Yes. No,” Brian whispered harshly, shaking his head, still fucking Roger’s firm hand.

Roger chuckled. “Which one is it? Should I stop?” And he slowed down and started to pull his hand away.

“No!” Brian gasped, opening his eyes to look at Roger fearfully. His face was charmingly red and his eyes glazed. In Roger’s hand, his cock wept, the head nudging insistently against his palm.

“All right, all right.” Roger pumped Brian’s cock faster now, causing him to thrust more erratically and if anyone inside cared to look, there was no mistake as to what they were doing, what with Brian’s hips working frantically to jerk into Roger’s grip. Feeling a little reckless, Roger continued at a pace he wished Brian was pounding into him, after making sure that no one was looking. “Wish I could suck you off. Wish I could taste you. I want to lick you all over, get you all nice and wet, and sucked these until you’re desperate and beg me to make you come,” he whispered, fingers grazing against Brian’s tight balls.

“Roger!” Brian hissed, face reddening further even as his hips bucked forward. He looked a little scared, but mostly he looked aroused, his brown eyes almost black with lust. His cock swelling just a little more in Roger’s grip and how wonderful would that feel stretching Roger obscenely.

Roger licked his lip. “Next time, I’ll have you come in my mouth.”

“ _Oh, God_ ,” Brian panted and closed his eyes tightly as he came heavily on the floor and railing, hips jerking fitfully into Roger’s steadily milking hand. “ _Oh, God. Oh, God_ ,” he continued as more pearly liquid spurted from his softening cock. He trembled, the railing the only thing keeping him standing as he was expertly wrung dry. A quiet whimper emitted from his mouth when Roger continued to lightly caress his soft cock even after the last drop had left him.

Once he had his fill of Brian, Roger slowly removed his hand from the sensitive cock, then offered his handkerchief for Brian to shakily and embarrassedly clean up the mess. He used the opportunity to calm himself down. His cock throbbed painfully in his trousers, demanding release, but he refused to even adjust himself. With his pitiful eyesight, Roger tried to focus on individual faces inside, imagining them finding out what he and Brian had gotten up to out here. The effort to see and the thought of people’s scandalized reaction softened him just enough so that when the intermission ended, he could walk back inside with miniscule awkwardness. Beside him, Brian walked slowly and unsteadily. His head was bowed in embarrassment and he watched Roger from the corner of his eyes nervously. Yet, there was a hunger in his eyes, which kept drifting toward the slight bulge in Roger’s trousers. Well, it was quite an intense experience if the thoroughly soiled handkerchief now in Brian’s possession was any indication. Roger smiled to him fondly just before they parted.

* * *

The next time they met, Roger made good on his promise. Instead of a balcony, he brought Brian to a storage room. Without delay, he sank to his knees and freed Brian’s half hard cock. It didn’t stay half hard for long, stiffening rapidly as Roger lapped at it hungrily and traced the thick veins with his tongue. He pressed a wet kiss on the underside before sucking on the fat head and swirling his tongue all over it until Brian gasped and whined for the wet warmth of his mouth. Then, when Brian seemed to be on the verge of begging, Roger enveloped the thick organ with his mouth. He was so _big_ that Roger’s jaw ached almost immediately. Still, Roger had done this many times before and bore it silently, using his hand to cover what his mouth couldn’t. It wouldn’t be long anyway, not with the way Brian was breathing harshly and holding Roger’s hair shakily. He thrust into Roger’s mouth in time with the bobbing of Roger’s head, although whenever Roger pulled away with a wet slurp, his hips always tried to buck. Roger allowed this a few times, amused at the look of utter embarrassment and deep desire on the handsome face looking down to him. When the aching of his jaw became difficult to ignore, however, he picked up the pace, sucking hungrily on Brian’s cock. He stroked his way up Brian’s trembling thigh and gently rolled his heavy balls. The breathing above him got louder. Now there were “please” and Roger’s name there as well. Brian looked at him helplessly, clearly on the brink of coming. Then, Roger pressed on the soft patch of skin behind his balls and he threw his head back, coming copiously in Roger’s mouth. Roger swallowed it happily, sucking and lapping at him until he urged him to stand and returned the favor with his hand.

Brian wasn’t well-practiced at this, Roger could tell, but Roger was close enough that it didn’t really matter how clumsy he was. He brought Roger off with quick strokes, with Roger’s mouth pressed wetly against his neck. He gasped when, daringly, Roger sucked a tiny mark on the pale skin as he came on Brian’s trousers. He didn’t seem angry, though, when Roger moved away with a lazy smile – not about the state of his clothes or about his neck. The trousers were salvaged by another piece of handkerchief and were to be wet at the restroom as a cover, while the red spot was low enough to be hidden by his collar, although Brian kept touching it self-consciously while looking at Roger with wide disbelieving eyes.

Then, Roger skipped the next performance.

When they met again the week after, Brian looked almost relieved, like he had feared Roger wouldn’t come back. For this, Roger rewarded him with his hand around both their cocks, sensitive lengths rubbing against each other and pressed together most arousingly that they only lasted a few minutes. It was Brian who sacrificed his handkerchief this time, covering the flared heads as they came, one after another. He looked at the soiled fabric in disbelief, then chuckled breathlessly when Roger laughed. He smiled brightly when Roger led him to a balcony to talk and smoke. The week after, they just talked, then the following week, Roger didn’t come again.

Roger couldn’t be predictable. Partly because it would rouse Freddie’s suspicion if he suddenly agreed to going to the ballet every week, and partly because he liked how Brian looked at him after an absence. He always seemed so happy, smiling widely and almost innocently at the sight of him. Not that he didn’t look happy when he saw Roger usually. Maybe it was just because he was glad to have someone who similarly disliked the art, but whenever he found Roger during intermission, his lips always broke into a smile so pure and dazzling that it did something funny to Roger’s heart. Roger would chalk it up to the delight of regular orgasm, but Brian didn’t seem disappointed whenever Roger decided that they would have no more than a conversation. He still seemed glad to talk about his students, the zodiacal dust he was studying, or rock band performances he had gone to, and he attentively listened when Roger told him about his shop, his car that he tried to turn into a racing machine, or recommended local artists. The more time they spent together, the more difficult it was for Roger to spend Saturday night on his own.

One night, they were sat side-by-side. It was the first time Roger got a good look at the parents who had unknowingly brought Brian to his attention. They seemed like a serious but kind couple. There were obvious closeness and affection when they talked to Brian, even though they seemed reserved when it came to gestures of love. Similarly, it was Brian’s first time seeing Freddie, who excitedly chattered almost non-stop about what they could expect from the performance tonight despite Roger’s lukewarm responses. Freddie could be a little… overwhelming for some, but when Roger looked beside him, Brian was surreptitiously watching them with soft amusement. Releasing a breath he didn’t know he was holding (he couldn’t be with anyone who in any way at all dislike his best friend,) Roger settled more comfortably in his seat. When the lights dimmed he pressed his knee against Brian’s and found him pushing back in return. They didn’t dare to lean close to each other, but for the first time ever, Roger actually enjoyed a ballet performance.

They didn’t go outside that night as it had gotten cold, winter swiftly approaching. Instead, Roger found them a spot at the corner near the bar, far from their parents and best friend. Not that they were up to anything naughty that night, content to just talking, drinking, and smoking while stealing little touches. When the intermission ended and Roger made to return to the hall, Brian grabbed his upper arm.

“Will you come next week?” he asked quietly but hopefully.

It briefly crossed Roger’s mind to tease and give vague answer. But, Brian looked so earnest, so eager to see him again. He’d always been earnest, he thought, but this time there was a hope for something more than mere conversation or orgasm, something Roger began to realize he wanted, too. Roger glanced around them. The crowd had begun to move back into the hall and it was only a matter of time before Freddie or Brian’s parents spotted them, which was the last thing either of them needed. Inside, there wouldn’t be any opportunity to have further conversation, so the answer must be given now. Looking back, Roger found that Brian was still waiting and Roger couldn’t- _didn’t_ want to lie.

“Yeah,” he promised. “I will.”

Brian was clearly unable to contain his excitement. He kept fidgeting when the performance resumed. His glances at Roger became borderline blatant, sure to catch someone’s attention eventually. Frowning, Roger kicked his shin – maybe a bit too hard because he let out a little cry in response. That earned Brian a few glares and hushing noises, as well as his mother’s concerned look as he sank into his seat in embarrassment. But, at least it got him to stop looking. Roger did feel a little guilty, though, so while the audience applauded the dancers at the end of the show, he stood so close to Brian his shoulder dug into Brian’s arm. Their eyes met for a moment and they exchanged quick smiles. When the lights were turned back on, Roger straightened up and clapped his hands deafeningly loudly to hide his impatience.

* * *

The week passed very, very, painfully slowly. Roger groaned in impatience at the end and beginning of each day and glared at the calendar when it told him that it wasn’t yet Saturday. Work could only distract him for so long before he started counting the minutes and when he went to a local band performance, he found himself looking for Brian. Freddie got suspicious, naturally, but Roger was stubbornly tight-lipped. He would definitely brought Brian to properly meet Freddie when he could introduce Brian as something more than someone he sometimes fooled around with during ballet intermissions, but for now he’d like to keep things quiet. Or at least as quiet as it could be when he was in actual physical pain waiting for the weekend to come. Roger was absolutely giddy on Friday, practically counting the hours to the performance Freddie had predictably invited him to.

Of course that was when his mum called to ask him to visit her.

Roger cursed and planned crimes on his way to his mum’s. He loved her and couldn’t turn her down when she reminded him that he hadn’t seen her for a while, but every fiber of his being wished he could go to the damn ballet with Freddie. He could imagine how disappointed Brian must be to not find him in the crowd during the intermission. A few weeks ago the thought had given Roger some perverse satisfaction from knowing that he was missed, but now he hated it. He wanted to see Brian smile. He wanted to hear him laugh. He wanted the tentative caresses and his pleased looks when he realized Roger didn’t mind his touches. He wanted to kiss him until he couldn’t breathe for happiness. He wanted to take him out to a proper date – with dinner, flowers, and even romantic music. He wanted to introduce him to his friends, sister and mum. He wanted everything with him.

“It’s not a good time to ask you to come, is it?” his mum asked him over dinner.

“Nah. I’m always happy to see you,” Roger denied, although he couldn’t really stop the downturn of his lips.

“But, you’d be happier seeing someone else, wouldn’t you?” His mum smiled as he gave another denial. “Who’s the lucky girl? Or boy?”

“There’s no one, I swear,” Roger insisted. It wasn’t that he was ashamed of Brian or didn’t trust his mum to support him, but he didn’t know Brian as well as he wished, meaning if he told her, he would soon have to reveal to her the exact shape of Brian’s cock. As open-minded as his mum was, he didn’t think she wanted to hear that.

His mum hummed. “Give him my apologies when you see him again.”

Roger drank an entire bottle of wine during dinner and drove home the next morning with a minor hangover and major bad mood. His sullen mood wasn’t improved when back in his flat Freddie regaled him with the story of the ballet performance he had missed. Having no way to ask whether he had seen any lost-looking poodle masquerading as a man, Roger locked himself up in his room, then played the loudest music he could without disturbing the neighbors.

The days passed torturously slowly afterward. Roger went to any place he could think of where he might find Brian, but London wasn’t a small place by any means. For the first time, he cursed his pride and insistence to avoid attachment. If he’d only asked where Brian taught, what pubs he went to, what stores he frequented, or even where he lived, he would be able to cut his misery short. However, he had no such information and he knew better than to hang around every school in town in hope of catching a glimpse of the unexpectedly attractive math teacher. Roger was forced to exercise patience – not something he excelled at, but he had no choice this time. Freddie’s reliable invitation/plea to accompany him to the ballet was swiftly accepted with only token grumbling. Roger was almost bouncing on his feet in impatience as Freddie decided that Saturday to be particular about what he wore to the show. With minor threats of tantrums, they soon were on the road. Roger wished he could say time moved swiftly or at least at its normal pace, but it seemed to take forever for them to get to their seats.

By this point, Roger’s patience had run out. Only Freddie’s general oblivion to the state of the world around him when he was excited for the show saved Roger from questioning. Every suggestion of a tall figure had Roger turning his head. The slightest hint of a quiet husky voice drew his eyes. But, Brian was nowhere to be seen. It hadn’t occurred to Roger that there might be a change of plan or Brian refused to go with his parents. But, the longer he went on looking for Brian, the more he was aware of this possibility. And honestly, who could blame Brian if he didn’t want to go? He hated ballet as much as Roger did and had made it quite clear that he had only come to please his parents and meet Roger. But, his parents only brought him along because he didn’t have anywhere else to be and if he had some other plan, if he found someone else, if he was so disappointed that Roger broke his promise the previous week, if he decided that Roger was only a waste of time, he might not come, might never meet Roger again.

The thought was soul-crushing. Roger had counted on Brian’s reliability and patience and obvious favor for him. He had forgotten to account himself and his behaviors, how his attitude might have cost him the first person he desperately longed to have in his life to talk with, to listen to, to adore, even to only look at. Roger closed his eyes and passed a trembling hand over his brows. His pride and ingrained manners were the only thing keeping him from displaying his emotions in public. But, his throat was clogged, his heart ached, his eyes were threatening to water. How silly. How many breakups had he had? It was just a man, one that he had known for a span of less than a dozen evenings and even then their meetings were limited to about a quarter of an hour. There was really nothing to be all weepy and emotional about. It was just a man. But, Brian was not just _any_ man.

The gasp escaped him at first, lost amid his breakdown, Freddie’s monologue, and the blanket of hushed conversations around him. The soft brush of fingers over his shoulder was more successful in drawing him out of his misery. But, a hard kick on the back of his seat followed by a muffled apology were what finally made him turn. Roger’s breath was caught, his heart leaping, when he saw Brian seated right behind him. He was looking at him in shock and want that he knew he reflected back. Roger fisted his hands tightly to keep from reaching out for Brian’s hands and pulling him forward and kissing him and promising him that never again would he let terrible scheduling and his pride got between them. He successfully turned back to the stage, but once the lights dimmed and the dance started, he kept turning his head, watching Brian watching him from the corner of his eyes. He took a deep breath to calm his heart that was racing with the strain of holding back his longing, but it did little to help.

The intermission came at long last. The crowd seemed to move extra slowly tonight, but maybe that was because Brian managed to walk beside him. Sides pressing, it was even more difficult to wait. Roger tugged Brian’s hand and nodded to the entrance and when the crowd carried them near the closed double door, the slipped out of the building.

It was cold outside, but not too much so. Roger led the way, guided by the few lights outside the building and the warm glow emanating from it. Brian’s steps were longer than Roger’s, but Roger walked faster than him. In simultaneously no time at all and forever, they reached his car, which he had thankfully parked in a darkened spot. Then, there was no holding back. Roger pushed Brian against the vehicle and kissed him ferociously. The sentiment was returned. Brian wrapped his arms around him to pull him close and parted his lips for Roger’s demanding tongue that tasted and acquainted and claimed. He himself wasn’t idle, kissing Roger with equal fervor and making breathy little noises into his mouth. They parted to breathe for only a moment before diving back for another passionate kiss, unable to get enough of each other.

Somehow, Roger managed to fish out his car key from his pocket. With a dismayed groan, he broke the kiss and pushed Brian aside so he could open the car door behind him. Not wanting to waste any more time, he nudged Brian inside and climbed onto the backseat after him. The sound of the car door closing was lost when Brian found his lips again and then he could only hear their harsh breaths and the whispers of hands caressing covered skin and soft hair. There wasn’t enough space to undress and Brian couldn’t even stretch his legs, but they were persistent. Roger, being experienced in backseat rendezvous, managed to get his trousers off without pulling away completely from Brian’s soft lips, but Brian, who was now laying beneath him, could only push his trousers down to his thighs. It was enough, though. Roger pressed hot open-mouthed kisses on Brian’s ear and jawline as he stroked their cocks together. Both of them were already painfully hard, straining and twitching when he tightened his grip. Roger moaned desirously and with one hand pushed Brian’s white shirt up until it was caught under his armpits. There was just enough light to allow him to see the peaks of Brian’s nipples, the flush spread over his pale skin, and the heaving of his bony chest. Roger ran his hands over protruding ribs, making Brian shiver below him. In retaliation, Brian made unexpectedly quick work of his tie and buttons and suddenly Roger’s chest was exposed and Brian’s large hands caressed him, his thumbs moving in tempting circles around his nipples. Whining, Roger kissed Brian again.

For a moment they were lost in that: hands touching bared skin, lips plundering and crushing, tongues claiming every soft inch, cocks stroked together until wetness blurted from the tips to mingle on soft sensitive skins and smoothing the passes of callused hand on the straining erections. Roger was the first to remember there was more they could do. He dug into the inner pocket of his suit jacket to retrieve a tube of lube. Brian made a lovely disappointed moan when he wrenched his mouth away and removed his hand from their cocks, but he fell silent when Roger showed him the lube.

“Give me a moment,” Roger said breathlessly as he quickly opened the tube. He shifted up to straddle Brian’s torso, the tip of Brian’s hefty cock nudging teasingly against his bottom.

Brian stared with wide eyes, holding on to this hips tightly. “Should I-should I help? Is there anything I can do? What do I….” Then, he stopped, blushing.

Roger stilled and looked at Brian closely. “Have you ever done this before?”

Brian slowly shook his head. “I’ve never been with a man.” He pursed his lips and suddenly looked scared. “I’m sor…”

“Do you want to continue?” Roger interrupted him gently. He caressed Brian’s heaving chest comfortingly. He wanted Brian, but if Brian wanted something else, a more comforting setting perhaps for his first time, then Roger didn’t mind. There were other things they could do. Roger would be content just to kiss him for hours or get him off with his hands or mouth or even stop completely if Brian didn’t want this.

Roger counted the heartbeats that passed as Brian studied him carefully in dim light. He released a quiet breath, Brian stroked the back of his hand. “Tell me how to prepare you.”

Roger taught him to be generous with the lube, coating his long fingers with the viscous substance liberally. Then, he parted his cheeks, breathing heavily as Brian’s fingers searched and found his entrance with little difficulty. Brian caressed him for a moment. His eyes were wide, disbelieving, as the furled muscle tightened under his soft touch. Roger was about to tell him to do it when he pushed the digit in, slowly, opening the entrance carefully until it loosened enough to admit the tip of the digit. Brian exhaled loudly, but the sound was lost in Roger’s long moan as he was breached, the slick digit opening up his passage little by little. He threw his head back, his body trembling, as Brian’s finger seemed to go on forever. It went further than his fingers could reach, which was expected, and further still than any other he’d been with had ever touched, which was a pleasant surprise. It awakened a deep hunger inside him and he couldn’t help himself, clinging to Brian’s sides and rocking back as if he were already taking Brian’s cock.

“God. Your finger,” he breathed. He shook his head when Brian looked at him in alarm. “Move.”

Brian moved his fingers tentatively at first, testing how much Roger could take. But, when Roger kept pushing back, whining whenever Brian drew even an inch back, he grew bolder. He swirled his finger around, making sure to coat him thoroughly with lube while exploring every clutching soft bit of him. Roger groaned when the second finger was introduced and Brian scissored them to stretch him out. Despite the near darkness, Roger could still see the slack-jawed look on Brian’s face and he would make fun of that if not for the way the wonderful pads of his long fingers kept grazing his prostate. It wasn’t enough, not even when Brian closed his free hand over Roger’s cock and slid the third finger into the loosening hole. Roger leaned forward, panting, as he fucked himself on the fingers. His breath hitched whenever Brian came close to touching the sweet spot inside him and he almost instructed Brian to find it properly, but then the wet tip of Brian’s cock accidentally brushed against his stretched entrance and he couldn’t wait anymore.

Orders were hastily and breathily given. Both of them were panting when Brian pulled his fingers out and lathered his cock in lube. Their eyes were firmly fixed on each other while Brian held himself for Roger and Roger sank down on him slowly. This time, it was Brian who moaned out loud when the slick hole embraced his flared head, then gradually enveloped the rest of his thick length. There was just a hint of discomfort as Roger was stretched so widely, but heated pleasure starting from deep inside him and spreading to the rest of his body drowned it. Roger arched his back as well as he could in the cramped space as he was penetrated deeply. Tears sprang to his eyes even as his hole quivered and clenched before giving way to accommodate the invading girth. When he finally sat on Brian’s lap, the whole intimidating cock buried inside him, he trembled. There was a small shock that he was capable of taking that much. Roger passed his hand over his stomach to see if he could feel Brian through layers of skin, muscles and fat. It surprised him that he couldn’t. He felt almost too full. It felt almost impossible to move with such a heavy organ inside him.

But, below him, Brian was squirming, eyes closed in ecstasy. Roger could feel his legs tensing behind him as he held back from coming. Chuckling breathlessly, Roger lifted himself up until only the thick head remained in him. Then, when Brian opened his eyes to look at him imploringly, he sank back down again, his bottom meeting Brian’s pelvis with a fleshy noise. Both of them moaned loudly at the red hot pleasure spreading through them. Without wasting time, Roger began to ride Brian zealously, lifting himself up and then dropping down again. He delighted himself in the little shocked gasp Brian let out whenever he took him to the root and the way Brian couldn’t seem to decide whether to look at his face or his bouncing cock. Brian ran his hands over Roger’s straining thighs, blinking rapidly. On one downward movement, he bucked his hips up, thrusting so hard and deep and good into Roger that Roger threw his head back with a cry. Brian might never have been with a man before, but he knew enough to jerk his hips up whenever Roger sank down on him. The drag of his cock over sensitive spots and Roger’s prostate gradually pushed Roger to the brink, his whole body lit up in pleasure that pooled in a tight coil at the base of his stomach. His balls were tight, rising as his cock steadily dripped onto Brian’s damp torso.

Roger thought he would come first, but then Brian shakily reached back and caressed his stretched entrance. He ran unsteady fingers over widened hole and felt his veiny cock driving into Roger and suddenly, gasping loudly, he came, bucking hard into Roger. He panted and choked as Roger continued to ride him, his internal muscles milking his spurting cock eagerly for every thick drop he spilled in the depth of Roger. Already on the brink, Roger only needed to give himself a few strokes before hurtling over the edge as well, shooting pearly liquid to Brian’s heaving torso. The clench of his body as he came made Brian dig his head into the seat below him with a groan. He gripped Roger’s hips tightly as he moved erratically to release the last drops of him inside Roger’s already slick passage. Roger huffed, breathless, and bent down to kiss him deeply, swallowing his soft moans. He moved with Brian, letting Brian find as much pleasure as he liked from him whilst using the friction of his cock rubbing against Brian’s dirty stomach to draw out his own release.

At some point, they stopped. Brian’s hands were on Roger’s bottom almost possessively. Their kiss slowed, then broke, then restarted gently before stopping completely to allow them to catch their breaths. Roger lazily shifted so that Brian slipped out of him. He sighed at the emptiness left behind and at the thought of the mess they would have to take care of. Taking stock of their surroundings, Roger noticed the foggy windows and the lack of hum of chatters coming from inside the building. The intermission must’ve ended. Freddie and Brian’s parents must be looking for them and they couldn’t possible be too pleased about their sudden disappearance. But, presently, Roger couldn’t care less about others, sated and comfortable atop Brian – although, he really could use a lie down.

“Next week,” Brian gasped out, “let’s not go to the ballet. Have dinner with me.”

“No,” Roger immediately answered. Just as Brian tensed up, he continued, “I’m not waiting another week. Tomorrow, have lunch with me.”

Brian blinked and laughed breathily. “Yeah, sure. Tomorrow.”

Their hands found each other and Roger leaned down for a lingering kiss full of promises of the future. “It’s a date.”

**Author's Note:**

> I knew this self-proclaimed womanizer who told me some tricks he did. One of the ways he mentioned was accompanying/contacting a woman regularly, then suddenly disappearing, as it would make her think about him. As someone who likes routine, I can see how this could work. I also can see Roger knowing stuff like this, although I (like to) think he relies on his charms to get people to his bed. Anyway, I have this idea that Freddie and Brian’s parents are close friends and that’s why they keep going to the same shows, thus allowing Roger and Brian to hang out. Freddie Mercury: the accidental wingman! So, see, it’s not so hand-wavy after all when I briefly mentioned that they have the same social schedules. I’m just very good at coming up with excuses to explain things that make smut convenient!
> 
> For now I can still be found on [tumblr](http://demonessryu.tumblr.com/) where my fanworks never show up on the proper tag(s).


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